A Shroud to Cover my Conscience
by AllTimeNatalie
Summary: George's thoughts on his action at the end of the book. 'His regrets, wishes and guilt were eating him alive' WARNINGS: SPOILER FOR THE END OF THE BOOK!


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Of Mice and Men', all rights belong to their owners. **

**SUM: George's thoughts on his action at the end of the book. 'His regrets, wishes and guilt were eating him alive' WARNINGS: SPOILER FOR THE END OF THE BOOK! **

**TITLE: A Shroud to Cover my Conscience **

**A/N: First 'Of Mice and Men' fan fiction so I hope it doesn't disappoint. **

I'm George Milton and I murdered my own best friend. He was like a child, always had been. All he ever did was pet them mice and pups. Them goddamn mice and pups. See he always pet em too hard until they died but he didn't know. He never knew. There's no pride in what I did, no shroud covering the delicate and regretful surface of my conscience. This much is clear to me now- I'm probably the worst human being alive in this sinful world.

We had this dream, me and Lennie. We'd have a couple acres and a nice big house. We'd also have chickens, pigs and of course, the rabbits. Yeah, Lennie loved those rabbits; it never actually occurred to him that they never were a reality. This whole dream was never a reality. It wasn't meant to happen, he wasn't meant to get into trouble but… well but it was Lennie. He always got into trouble, heck, trouble followed him. It was like a shadow that crept up on him all the damn time. He never got a break from it, it never ceased. That night still haunts me in my dreams. It just keeps on creeping in and out of my mind and the expression on his face, the sound of the shot gun as it echoed through the night; all that's like a continuous movie reel in my head. I can see it all the time in black and white perfect pictures like some sort of twisted nightmare. I can see it all and it never stops.

I know what I did was wrong but what did he want from me? If I didn't kill him, _they _surely would have. No, I couldn't let that happen to Lennie, I couldn't watch someone else murder him in cold blood. I did it for him, he's better now, I swear it. Picture Candy's dog and picture Lennie. They were both similar in situations. He was no good to himself, he couldn't understand a word I said and he surely deserved better than me always bossing him around all the time.

If I could turn time back to that night, believe me, I would. He wasn't meant to grab her and shake her like that. He wasn't meant to kill the damn woman! He was too strong for his own good. Hands like bear paws but a heart like a soft little pup, that's what he had. Ever' night I walk into the bunkhouse and I lay my eyes upon the small circle of light that tumbled onto the card table and I think 'what if…' What if we got our dream? What if I treated him different? What if I wasn't so damn horrible? What if he got them rabbits? Wouldn't last a second with him and his great almighty hands probably, pet em too hard like he pet everything else to hard.

I walk into that bunkhouse we shared out dream in and I see his bunk where I used to watch him sleep; so deep in an unbreakable slumber even the softest, strongest of rabbits couldn't wake him. He'd always make me tell it again and again because; well his future was his present. To him, there were rabbits and he would pet them.

I know there is no justification to my actions. I still curse myself for pulling the trigger, for killing my best friend, my brother, my son. He meant everything to me and I pushed him right into the afterlife. Every time I demeaned the little intelligence he nurtured like an expensive crystal. There is no meaning to my eyes anymore. The lifeless rings of colour encompass a lost black hole of mistaken intentions. The brightness drained and the reason completely destroyed, they merely wander the four walls of the bunkhouse I rarely leave. I know that Lennie can't come back. I'm no child like he was; I don't have the mental age of a three year old. I know exactly what I've done. The thing that worries me the most is I don't feel any form of joy. I always said to him that 'I could have it so easy' without him but now he's gone and he's taken a piece of me with him. I'm tired of placing upon myself this pointless and stupid façade that I'm okay. I'm not okay, I'm not fine, I'm completely and utterly broken.

There's no regretting the inevitable truth I have to face every single day of my life- I'm the worst human being alive.

**A/N: Well, hope it wasn't too bad. Thanks for reading. **


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